


Doghouse

by betawho



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Gen, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-10
Updated: 2016-05-10
Packaged: 2018-06-07 12:13:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6803650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/betawho/pseuds/betawho
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Doctor's in the doghouse, not an unusual situation with River, but this time he doesn't know what he did...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Doghouse

"River!"

He bounded into the room and kissed her jubilantly, burying his hands in her wealth of hair.

He pulled back and grinned at her.

She scowled at him.

"Uhm..." He pulled his fingers out of her hair. He took a step back. He wasn’t used to River _scowling_ at him when he kissed her.

She shoved him back with one stiff arm and moved around to the other side of the console, she pulled the dematerialization lever, hit the blue boringers, and pulled the console screen around to her.

The Doctor bit his lip, looking at her. She was frowning.

She worked her way back around the console then stopped in front of him. She nudged him aside with an impatient hip and typed something into the typewriter. Could have been coordinates, could have been insults. Maybe she was tattling on him to Amy via psychic text.

His lower lip wibbled a bit. He'd just wanted to kiss his wife. Was that so wrong?

She turned around right in front of him, between him and the console, and crossed her arms.

He looked up at her from beneath his eyebrows, staring through his fringe.

"I'm sorry?" he asked.

River rolled her eyes and huffed out a breath. She cocked her head at him, and a hip.

"Did I do something wrong?" The last thing he wanted was to give her a disgust of him. He knew this was an older River, he'd thought she was one who was used to kissing him. He hadn't meant to invade her space, or her privacy.

"Should I have asked first?" he asked, eyes wide, trying to figure out this enigma of a wife of his. He was pretty sure she _liked_ kissing. She was certainly good at it. _Excellent_ in fact. He definitely did not want her to not want to kiss him. His belly fell at the thought. A future with no River kisses didn't bear thinking about.

She was giving him a very level look. Not disapproval, not laughing, not angry. He couldn't tell _what_ she was thinking. That was one of the really annoying things about his wife. He couldn't read her when she got that flat "thinking at you" face. He hoped he got better at reading her in the future.

If he had a future.

He bit his lip again. "I'm sorry?" he tried again.

She huffed out a breath. "I'm not angry at you for kissing me, Sweetie. And, no, you don't have to ask. But," she waved a hand behind her, "we just entered the Jagoran asteroid belt, and for some reason you had the shields down."

His eyes got big and he leaned slightly around her, reading the console over her shoulder.

"I fixed it," she said to his ear. He pulled back and stared at her.

She grinned at him, that lush-mouthed grin. She reached up and slipped a lock of unruly hair back behind his ear.

"You just surprised me when I was busy, Sweetie." She looked his young face up and down. She pursed her lips at him. His eyes immediately darted to them.

"And I prefer to have time when I kiss you," she said, tracing one red tipped finger lightly down his lips. Her eyes followed the path of her finger as she lightly pulled at his bottom lip.

"Lots and lots of time..." she said.

His stomach tingled and he cleared his throat. She watched as his Adams apple bobbed, she looked like she was contemplating lunch.

"So," he squeaked, then cleared his throat and lowered his voice. She was standing right in front of him, less than a finger breadth away, leaning back on the console. The light of the rotor coruscated up and down through her curls, he could feel the deck vibrating under his feet.

Her eyes, blue and green, were virtually luminous as she looked at him, not blank faced now.

"Are you busy, Dr. Song?" he asked politely.

She smiled that slow sinful smile at him. She traced a sharp fingertip up his shirt to his bow tie, he could feel it zipping against the material all the way down to his time sense.

She hummed.

"I'm about to be..."

—

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